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Aug. 6th, 2017
via http://ift.tt/2vD8zZR:
darkestelemental616:
the-modern-typewriter:
“All that talk about the power of friendship,” the antagonist murmured, as they circled the protagonist. “And it never even occurred to you that perhaps your enemies might have friends too, did it? How arrogant a thing, you are…”
seriously, NO ONE DOES THIS and it fruSTRAtes me
darkestelemental616:
the-modern-typewriter:
“All that talk about the power of friendship,” the antagonist murmured, as they circled the protagonist. “And it never even occurred to you that perhaps your enemies might have friends too, did it? How arrogant a thing, you are…”
seriously, NO ONE DOES THIS and it fruSTRAtes me
"Empty your heart of its mortal dream."
Aug. 6th, 2017 04:08 pmvia http://ift.tt/2v9JWma:
““Empty your heart of its mortal dream.””
- W.B. Yeats, The Hosting of the Sidhe (via lizthemun)
““Empty your heart of its mortal dream.””
- W.B. Yeats, The Hosting of the Sidhe (via lizthemun)
via http://ift.tt/2vaapjz:
i … know basically nothing about fae, actually. were those the ones with the courts and the seasons? let’s see how this one goes.
there’s a similarity between the fae and hippogriffs that newt picks up on at his first encounter with the court: there are rules that must be followed and respects to be paid if he wants to keep his insides where they belong. he goes nowhere and accepts nothing without first laying out the terms of exchange because that is the nature the fae are bound by, and he leaves the woods owing nothing he has not paid.
in time he becomes - not a friend, no, not exactly, but as close to it as a human can be with the fair folk. what shall i give you in return for this meal? he asks. in the early days he would have to bargain them down from his firstborn child to safe passage in his case for one fairy from this mound to that one on a particular date, with no tricks or destruction of his possessions. now he asks, and he hears laughter like a bubbling stream and tell us the name you have given to this snake-bird. he pays in trinkets and stories from his travels, and he never forgets the rules.
there comes a day when he descends into his case and the queen is waiting for him, gossamer wings and the wrath of her court at her back. a wizard is in new york with aspirations to immortality, murdering her people and hiding behind the stink of iron and steel to escape his punishment, and she wants him to die choking on sand.
what will you give me in return? he asks, as ever mindful of her nature, and she smiles a terrible smile.
newt closes his eyes in the woolworth building and opens them again in gellert grindelwald’s cell, somewhere under the hudson river. he takes pleasure in the way the man twitches in shock, his reflexive grasp for his wand, his realization that he has no power here apart from his words, and newt - newt has all the power in the world.
he is fae now, in name and regard if not in nature, with the power and privileges that entails. the wild calls to him, a whisper in the back of his head louder than grindelwald’s shouting. he needs only fulfill his end of the last contract he’ll ever need to make.
he knows the harm that this man has caused and sees the pain he will cause in the future spiraling out before him. he thinks of endless jars with dust and bells in them lined up in neat rows on a shelf, of a boy with no hope and no defense against charisma, of a man with a familiar face but unfamiliar expressions willing himself to die rather than suffer further who newt has already decided to claim.
newt offers a blank smile in place of the mercy he will not give.
the court sends her regards, he says as the first drips of sand fall from grindelwald’s mouth.
i … know basically nothing about fae, actually. were those the ones with the courts and the seasons? let’s see how this one goes.
there’s a similarity between the fae and hippogriffs that newt picks up on at his first encounter with the court: there are rules that must be followed and respects to be paid if he wants to keep his insides where they belong. he goes nowhere and accepts nothing without first laying out the terms of exchange because that is the nature the fae are bound by, and he leaves the woods owing nothing he has not paid.
in time he becomes - not a friend, no, not exactly, but as close to it as a human can be with the fair folk. what shall i give you in return for this meal? he asks. in the early days he would have to bargain them down from his firstborn child to safe passage in his case for one fairy from this mound to that one on a particular date, with no tricks or destruction of his possessions. now he asks, and he hears laughter like a bubbling stream and tell us the name you have given to this snake-bird. he pays in trinkets and stories from his travels, and he never forgets the rules.
there comes a day when he descends into his case and the queen is waiting for him, gossamer wings and the wrath of her court at her back. a wizard is in new york with aspirations to immortality, murdering her people and hiding behind the stink of iron and steel to escape his punishment, and she wants him to die choking on sand.
what will you give me in return? he asks, as ever mindful of her nature, and she smiles a terrible smile.
newt closes his eyes in the woolworth building and opens them again in gellert grindelwald’s cell, somewhere under the hudson river. he takes pleasure in the way the man twitches in shock, his reflexive grasp for his wand, his realization that he has no power here apart from his words, and newt - newt has all the power in the world.
he is fae now, in name and regard if not in nature, with the power and privileges that entails. the wild calls to him, a whisper in the back of his head louder than grindelwald’s shouting. he needs only fulfill his end of the last contract he’ll ever need to make.
he knows the harm that this man has caused and sees the pain he will cause in the future spiraling out before him. he thinks of endless jars with dust and bells in them lined up in neat rows on a shelf, of a boy with no hope and no defense against charisma, of a man with a familiar face but unfamiliar expressions willing himself to die rather than suffer further who newt has already decided to claim.
newt offers a blank smile in place of the mercy he will not give.
the court sends her regards, he says as the first drips of sand fall from grindelwald’s mouth.
via http://ift.tt/2vuu7aL:
archiemcphee:
On Surreal Sunday we watch Dave Issac, a sheep and cattle farmer in East Sussex, England herding his flock with a car that he transformed into a giant sheep dog.
The sheepdoggo car is named Floss. Issac created her in tribute to his family’s beloved sheepdog of the same name who’d recently passed away.
He spent £2,000 covering the family car in fur and modifying it until it became an exact replica of Floss, his favourite sheep dog. Floss the sheep dog car, who has a top speed of 40mph, soon proved to be a surprisingly effective herder as the flock of sheep failed to notice they were being rounded up by a much larger animal with headlamps for eyes and an exhaust.
Sadly, Floss the car is too big for Issac to store in his barn nor is she permitted to be driven on actual roads, so the family has decided to auction her off on Ebay.
“They were things we didn’t really consider when we built her so with a heavy heart she is going on E-bay. It’s been a lot of fun and she handles well, is obedient and nice and docile and surprisingly aerodynamic. But its back to the tried and tested traditional skills of the sheep dog again. As long as she goes to a good home I’ll be happy.” he said.
[via The Daily Mail]
archiemcphee:
On Surreal Sunday we watch Dave Issac, a sheep and cattle farmer in East Sussex, England herding his flock with a car that he transformed into a giant sheep dog.
The sheepdoggo car is named Floss. Issac created her in tribute to his family’s beloved sheepdog of the same name who’d recently passed away.
He spent £2,000 covering the family car in fur and modifying it until it became an exact replica of Floss, his favourite sheep dog. Floss the sheep dog car, who has a top speed of 40mph, soon proved to be a surprisingly effective herder as the flock of sheep failed to notice they were being rounded up by a much larger animal with headlamps for eyes and an exhaust.
Sadly, Floss the car is too big for Issac to store in his barn nor is she permitted to be driven on actual roads, so the family has decided to auction her off on Ebay.
“They were things we didn’t really consider when we built her so with a heavy heart she is going on E-bay. It’s been a lot of fun and she handles well, is obedient and nice and docile and surprisingly aerodynamic. But its back to the tried and tested traditional skills of the sheep dog again. As long as she goes to a good home I’ll be happy.” he said.
[via The Daily Mail]
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aki-anyway:
When someone says these days sexism and misogyny don’t exist anymore show them this.
aki-anyway:
When someone says these days sexism and misogyny don’t exist anymore show them this.